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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835620">ain’t nobody’s baby (baby, i’m an outlaw)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows'>ohallows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Competition, Gen, Not sure which, Revenge, its nebulously in canon but like. sans saving the world and blue veins, weird cast of characters i know it make sense i promise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:15:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasha’s better at darts than anyone she knows, but she’s happy to pretend she isn’t if that means she gets to pull the carpet out from under rich assholes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam &amp; Sasha Racket, Sasha Racket &amp; Zolf Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ain’t nobody’s baby (baby, i’m an outlaw)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeghoul/gifts">abbeghoul</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABBEGAIL LOOK AT THAT **ITS ONLY 11:30PM I DID IT IN TIME HELL YEAH!!!**</p><p>TITLE from ‘baby outlaw’ by elle king</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The pub around them is raucous and grimy, dim lights overhead barely illuminating the room. It’s a seedy little dive in the center of London, one that all the tourists and non-regulars avoid like the plague. The ceilings are low, with dark shadowy corners, the unsavoury sort milling about, and about a hundred back-door deals happening under tables. It’s not known for its majesty, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>known for its mystery - no one here is going to ask for a name that isn’t given, and even less are going to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>offer </span>
  </em>
  <span>that up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Sasha should be nicer about it. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zolf’s pub, after all. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>calls it a bit of a shithole, though, and seems to like it that way, so she doesn’t think he’ll care too much. Plus, he lets her get away with way more than anyone else - even gave her a discount on drinks, sometimes, which he doesn’t give to any of his other patrons (with, like, three exceptions, but the rest of them - Hamid, Azu, and Cel - are all out of the country at the moment.) He actually makes Bertie pay </span>
  <em>
    <span>more, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or he would if he ever showed his face here again after Zolf laid him out clean on the floor, knocked unconscious. It’s one of Sasha’s favorite memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, yeah. The perfect place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Campbell’s is where Sasha spends most of her Friday nights (well, most of her non-work nights, honestly). She revised for her exams, here, Zolf letting her stay past closing time so that she could get away from all the rowdy patrons. He’d even quizzed her a few times, loudly complaining about how all the words were too long and complex and how bogus a university education was when trades existed, and she listened to the lectures and then went right on back to studying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She likes Zolf. Zolf likes her too, which is good - otherwise, she’d have to find a new favorite place, with someone she can trust as much as she trusts Zolf, now, and that would just be… well, a hassle. Hell, it had taken nearly half a year even to give Zolf her </span>
  <em>
    <span>name, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that had been on accident when he saw one of her homework sheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s beside the point now, though. She graduated a few years ago, but stayed in the area, and saw no reason not to stick around here. She’s as much a regular as the old ladies who preen and fawn over Zolf, and he takes it with as much grace as he has in his body (it’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it’s easy enough to tell that they’re good friends and have been for a long time).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why… she probably should have listened more when Zolf told her to stop yanking the customers around to win money from them at darts. But he’s busy with drinks, tonight - it’s a more full bar than normal, and with Amelia off on an adventure, Wilde taking the night off, and half his other workers down with </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>(Sasha thinks it’s the flu, but she can’t be certain), he’s a bit short-staffed. Sasha </span>
  <em>
    <span>offered </span>
  </em>
  <span>to help, because she’s here anyway, but Zolf mentioned the “we will never speak of it again” accident where Sasha, er - loaded up all the patrons so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>that two-thirds of them were drunkenly stumbling out of the room. Normally, that’s what you’d expect, so Sasha wasn’t quite sure where she’d gone wrong, until Zolf had pointed out that it was only 10pm and half their clientele was gone for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha hadn’t helped out after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, now she’s trying to reel someone in, because she’s a bit grumpy and could use an outlet. That’s what Zolf always tells her, anyway. He likes having projects, Sasha likes having </span>
  <em>
    <span>outlets. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Look, all this is his fault, anyway. At least, that’s the rationalisation </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>choosing to use. Whether Zolf buys it or not (he won’t) is a different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t really care, though. She’s already found her mark for the evening. It’s a tall, burly man in the corner, who’s watching her with interest - nothing untoward, thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because that’s the opposite of something Sasha would ever want, but she knows the look of someone who’s spotted some easy winnings for the night. She has to hide a smile, and it’s easy enough in the darkness and behind the collar of her coat. He won’t even know what hit him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy, honestly; it’s always easier when it’s the cocky ones, she’s learned. You barely even need to do any of the work yourself, not when they’re so willing to talk themselves up that you just need to nod and agree. And this guy… has absolutely got his head far, </span>
  <em>
    <span>far </span>
  </em>
  <span>up his own arse. Good. She’s going to earn a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha closes one eye - a fool’s mistake, she knows, and one that the guy watching her will pick up on. It doesn’t miss, not completely - you need to show </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>skill, a reason for them to let you win, and Sasha’s got this mastery down to a T. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns when the dart hits just off-center, and that’s when the guy stands up off his stool and comes over. Hook, line, sinker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gideon,” he introduces, sticking out a hand. Sasha just stares at it, not offering a name or a shake back, and eventually he pulls it back, easy smile still on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamid </span>
  </em>
  <span>had mentioned a Gideon, once, and not in the way that suggested they were good friends. She’d gotten some more of the story from Azu, and a bit from Zolf, and from the descriptions (and the absolute death glare that Zolf was leveling at that group in particular), she’s pretty sure that this just might be the same Gideon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes it even </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweeter. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This asshole did a number on Hamid, it’ll be just Sasha’s pleasure to rob him halfway blind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fan of darts?” he asks, and Sasha shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As good a game as any to play here. Helps pass the time, yeah?” she says, only stuttering a bit. She’s still not </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the conversation, but she’s been getting better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m new here, and you seem to be alone, so… Fancy a bet?” he asks, pointing toward the dart board. Sasha hesitates - you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hesitate, have to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>be the one convincing </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and just like every other time, Gideon holds his hands up, the very </span>
  <em>
    <span>picture </span>
  </em>
  <span>of non-threatening. Back at his group, Sasha can hear titters and murmurs, and Gideon turns back to them, motioning for them to be quiet, even though it feels more like he’s encouraging them to be even more rowdy. “We can do a practice round, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Sasha says, and hands him half of the set. Gideon inclines his head for a moment, and somehow it feels mocking, even though the look on his face hasn’t changed. He throws the darts, and then steps back, idly tilting his head as he considers them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad,” he says. and gestures at the board. “Your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true - he’s not bad. Clearly, he knows what he’s doing, but Sasha isn’t worried. He might be good, but she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She doesn’t let him see that, though. Does just good enough to show that she knows what she’s doing, but not good enough to scare him off. It’s a delicate line.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel ready?” he asks, and Sasha nods. “Ladies first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha wonders for a second if kicking him in the crotch would be worth it, and then remembers that this is (mostly) for Hamid and that she wants to fleece him dry. She refrains. There will be time for that later. Just picking his wallet </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>tempting, though. She controls the urge and throws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first round goes exactly as she expected. Gideon is good, but it’s clear that the noise of the bar is getting to him. Sasha comes out ahead, but only by a bit - </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicate line</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best of two?” he suggests, a gleam in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I think I might just take this and run,” Sasha says, looking at the gold Gideon’s set on a nearby table. Gideon frowns, but it keeps that friendly edge to it, as though this is nothing more than a friendly game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, tapping his pocket, and then pulls another sack of gold out. “If you can match it? Double or nothing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er… I suppose I could…” Sasha says, eyeing the gold. She pulls a sack of her own out of her pocket - it’s filled with enough gold to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound </span>
  </em>
  <span>heavy, but most of it is knick knacks that she’s stolen off of other people. Honestly, some of it might still be Hamid’s. He’d been an easy mark, and Sasha hadn’t really felt the need to give him his stuff back even though they’re friends now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon gives her another smile; something about it sets her on edge, and she grips the darts a bit more tightly as he gestures, again, for her to go first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes the offer - it doesn’t matter to her, and making him think about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>magnanimous </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is will only play to her favour. The second game, she loses. On purpose, of course, it’s how these things are meant to go. She doesn’t do too badly - she has to remain consistent with the first game, her being terrible </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>is only going to send up red flags. They need to make it to the third game, and then Sasha can show him she means business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the second match, Sasha lets her face fall into a frown. “I really thought I had that one,” she mumbles, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She gives the bag of gold a forlorn glance, as though she’ll be sorry to see the end of it, and Gideon laughs, loud enough to draw some more attention their way. Sasha hunches up her shoulders; she hates having this many eyes on her at once. The less people who know what she can do, the more money she’ll make in the long run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can’t leave such a pretty lady so downtrodden,” Gideon says, huge fake sigh and all, and Sasha revisits the ‘kicking in the crotch’ plan until she sees the load of gold he sets down on the table. “How about it? We play for triple, winner walks away, no questions asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha frowns. “I dunno,” she hedges, waiting for him to take the bait. “Seems like a lot to lose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there’s so much to win,” Gideon cajoles, all in the tone of voice of a man who knows he’s gotten what he wants, and Sasha makes a show of considering the sack of gold for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe…” she says, trying to keep a doubtful note in her tone, and it seems to work with how Gideon sighs and leans on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twist my arm…” he mutters, and pulls out another sack of gold. “I won’t even ask you to match this one. It’s a bonus if you win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says it with confidence, as though this win is completely secure for him, and Sasha realises that this must be what it’s like to grow up never wanting for anything. Hamid had given her a glimpse, but he’d been so down on it when they’d met that she couldn’t help but pity him. Gideon, on the other hand… he doesn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>about losing the money; it doesn’t change anything for him, as rich as he is, and he won’t even miss it. It’s just for show, to prove that he’s better than the rest of them are, and Sasha can’t wait to show him how </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” she says, and puts up one more sack. “For the bonus? Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon nods, and motions for Sasha to go first </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>more. She smirks, hidden by her collar. He’ll regret that, soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>buries </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. It might be the quickest and most technically perfect she’s ever been in a match; there’s no need to be showy, now, she just wants Gideon to know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s been beat. The entire bar goes silent. All the regulars know Sasha’s game, and normally keep their eyes averted to avoid suspicion, just as she would do for them, but now they’re all watching with open interest as Sasha mops the floor with the posh kid from the ‘better’ parts of town who decided to slum it down here with the rest for a night out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second her score drops to zero, there’s a smattering of applause throughout the bar, and some voices she knows cheer her on. Gideon’s party looks gobsmacked, apart from one person in the back who seems to laugh before quieting up </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>fast. Gideon, to his credit, realises what’s happened relatively quickly, but not before Sasha is able to grab the sacks of gold, drop the darts on the table, and start making her way back to the throng of people in the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t make it far, and feels a hand grab the back of her jacket and spin her around. The grip isn’t as tight as it could be (her jacket is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice leather, a graduation gift from Zolf) and she manages to stumble back, getting out of Gideon’s grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, you little -“ he starts, and advances toward Sasha. She lets a knife slip out of her jacket and into her palm, carefully holding it out of sight behind her back, but the crowd can see it. Everyone stays quiet, looking back and forth at each other, as Sasha steps back, bumping into the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash, Grizzop is stood in front of her, arms crossed as he glares at Gideon. “What was that?” he growls, refusing to budge as Gideon tries to go around him to get to Sasha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She tricked me!” Gideon yells, pointing, and Grizzop half-turns around to see Sasha holding two big sacks of gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems to me like she won those fair and square. You were the one who kept betting, weren’t you?” Grizzop says, before facing Gideon again. Sasha clutches the gold a bit more tightly to her chest, shrinking down a bit. It’s not like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>take Gideon - he’s clearly not a fighter - but Zolf’s already complained about her getting blood on his floors before and he’s kind of annoying when he’s all complain-y.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s - but - she </span>
  <em>
    <span>faked it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>everyone saw! This conniving little -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d watch my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth </span>
  </em>
  <span>if I were you,” Grizzop says, voice quiet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Gideon seems to get the hint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone must have seen that!” he blusters, but no one at the bar is willing to take his side. Even his own party is silent, looking anywhere but at him. “Lili? Tamara? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bryce</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all just twiddle their thumbs. Sasha thinks Bryce - </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>what a name - actually starts whistling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Grizzop says, not leaving a single space for an argument. Gideon glares at him for a while, clearly furious, but then his eyes flick to the rest of the bar, who are all staring at him and nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>daring </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to make a move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grizzop raises an eyebrow. He’s not particularly large, but he still cuts an intimidating figure. Sasha isn’t really sure what it is, but after watching him completely wipe the floor with half a biker gang after a brawl, she kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. He’s just got a… intense energy, around him. S’why Zolf picked him as a bouncer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha </span>
  </em>
  <span>had applied too, but Zolf had taken one look at her, one look at the textbooks on the bar next to her, and shaken his head, and no amount of pleading had gotten him to change his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s alright. Sasha makes more money on her own… private security business than she would playing bouncer. Plus, the sting of rejection had failed when Zolf had gotten a bit drunk one evening and confessed that he was more worried about a potential lawsuit from what she could do to anyone who tried to cross her, not from worrying over her being hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can respect that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyways, Gideon does leave. He knows when he’s beaten, clearly, and gives the two of them sharp glares. Sasha only half hides behind Grizzop (it’s hard, cause he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>shorter </span>
  </em>
  <span>than her, but she still manages). The moment he’s gone, Grizzop turns to her with a disappointed look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sasha,” is all he has to say before Sasha is waving her hands back and forth in denial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do nothing, honest!” Sasha claims. “I wanted to tap out after one, he’s the one who kept upping the game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grizzop clearly doesn’t believe her, but then a glass breaks in the corner and a scuffle starts up. He sighs. “This isn’t over,” he warns, and Sasha nods, letting him wag a finger at her. “You could get in real trouble someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha nods. “Yup. Yeah. Er - message received, mate. Loud and clear. Won’t - yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grizzop rolls his eyes but doesn’t push. He rubs at his temples, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Why me?” and leaves, heading toward the corner. Sasha takes the opportunity to sneak toward the back, where she can count her winnings. Zolf always lets her back there, so he won’t mind. A few people clap her on the back as she goes, which she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but eventually she makes it to the other side, and slips through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets the bags of gold on the table and smiles down at it. Ever since she graduated, she hasn’t been hurting for money, but it’s nice to have this. She can send some over to Brock, and he can use it to pay some of his rent. Plus, it’s nice making rich people lose their money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright!” Sasha hears, and stands up, peeking her head through the door. Zolf is standing there, somehow looking intimidating even with a dish towel over his shoulder, and glaring at what remains of Gideon’s group. They don’t look happy, either, but they don’t seem as though they’re willing to argue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of you. Out,” Zolf says, pointing toward the door. “No questions. Out. And don’t think about coming back. I don’t forget faces, and you’re no longer welcome here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them - one of the girls, Sasha doesn’t know which and she doesn’t really care - tosses her hair and tsks, as though she had never wanted to be here anyway. “Fine! But we’ll be telling everyone about how us and poor Gideon were treated here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Zolf says, sounding unimpressed. “We won’t miss any of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They leave, flouncing out, and the rest of the bar doesn’t even seem slightly sorry to watch them</span>
</p><ol>
<li><span> Zolf sighs, chucks his towel into a basket, and starts angrily cleaning a few glasses. </span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>Sasha slips out of the back and ducks under the counter of the bar, coming up behind Zolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, boss?” she asks, and Zolf just rubs a hand across his forehead. It’s all soapy and gross, so he makes a face and then wipes it off with a towel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your boss,” he says automatically. “Now that they’re gone? Yeah. They just. Kept talking about Hamid back at uni. Just. Gods, people are </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Feel like I should call him and apologise. But. I didn’t want to sit around and listen to them yammer on. Bunch of stuck-up Oxbridge prats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha chooses not to remind Zolf that she went to Cambridge, too. He doesn’t seem in the mood. “Anyway. Bars closing soon. You want to stay the night? Guest room’s open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I don’t have anything on tomorrow,” Sasha says, easy as anything, and Zolf nods, tossing her a towel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Make yourself useful, then,” he says, and Sasha scrunches up her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said I couldn’t work here!” she argues, and Zolf gives her one of his patented Looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clean and we don’t need to talk about your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>stunt </span>
  </em>
  <span>there,” Zolf says, raising an eyebrow. and Sasha gets the message loud and clear. She ducks her head and begins cleaning, giving him a thumbs up. Zolf knows when to turn a blind eye. Most of the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They clean in silence while the rest of the patrons slowly filter out, tipping their hats or their glasses to Sasha and Zolf before leaving. Grizzop comes over, probably ready to lecture Sasha, but she makes a show of yawning and catches the sympathetic look in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says, and grabs his coat out of the back. “Breakfast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>paying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha frowns, but she’s not really in a position to argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you, Zolf. Sasha,” Grizzop says, and shrugs his coat on as he heads out. The door shuts behind him, leaving Zolf and Sasha standing there in the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done,” Zolf says, quiet even though they’re the only ones there. “For the record, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>approve, but. I suppose in this instance… I’ll let it slide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Sasha asks, and then shuts her mouth, because Zolf is giving her that look that means she should </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>questioning things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can finish up here,” Zolf says, and takes the towel from Sasha. “Night, Sasha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers,” Sasha says, and heads back, grabbing up the sacks of gold as she goes. She’s got a spare key to Zolf’s flat right above the bar, and lets herself in, heading for the guest room. She lays her winnings down on the small desk in there and smiles. The money’s nice, of course, always is, but it felt good to get one over on someone who made her friend absolutely miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heads to bed, curling up under the covers, a sense of accomplishment and pride sitting deep in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not bad for a night’s work. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>noot if you read this the dichotomy from the TRAGEDY you were sending me to me writing this,,, god</p><p>also i’m on tumblr at ohallows hmu ask for a prompt chat about rqg i’m down!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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